


Singing Pizza's and Dancing Bananas

by FAiTh_6



Category: Harry Styles (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: And Sarah too, Blame it on the fever, Clare and Adam are only in here really briefly, F/M, Fever, Fluff, Harry has some confusing thoughts, Harry is completely out of it, I'm Sorry, Live On Tour, Lots of vomiting, M/M, Medicine, Mitch takes care of him, Not the song, Sick Harry, Sickfic, The boys are only mentioned, The title and dream are related, Tourbus, Vomiting, You'll understand then, just read it, not descriptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FAiTh_6/pseuds/FAiTh_6
Summary: The one where Harry gets really sick in the middle of the night, but Mitch and Sarah are there to help him get better.





	Singing Pizza's and Dancing Bananas

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a few monts ago, but because of exams I wasn't able to finish it. My exams are over now though, so here it is.  
> This is my first fic that is longer than 2k and I'm quite proud of it. 
> 
> This is beta'd by me, so any and all remaining mistakes are mine (let me know if there are some major ones). I do not own any of the characters nor any of the situations, this is a work of pure fiction. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Blanket. No blanket. Blanket. No blanket. Sigh. Turn around. Stick one foot out. Foot back in. Arm out. Foot out. Both back in. Blanket. Turn over again. 

 

Repeat proces. 

 

Harry couldn’t decide whether he felt too hot or too cold. By the time he had decided he was too hot and had pushed the blanket off him again for the umpteenth time, he was cold again. He could feel how clammy his hands and feet were and the curls that stuck to his sweaty forehead indicated his assumptions of having a fever only more. 

 

If he wouldn’t feel this dizzy, he would have gotten up and got something to reduce his fever. But anytime he moved his head too fast from one side to the other, it felt like the world turned upside down. His head was pounding and he felt queasy. The motion of the bus was not helping his stomach either.  

 

He had no idea what caused him to feel like this. He hadn’t been around sick people and he hadn’t eaten anything weird or abnormal. On the other hand, his immune system was quite weak and Harry has a history of catching everything that goes around. Although the flu is not supposed to make its entry at the beginning of September. 

 

Harry does know one thing, though; He feels like absolute shit. 

 

***

 

Harry has no idea what time it is, but it has to be somewhere in the middle of the night. An hour at which every sane person would be asleep. But Harry isn’t. 

It hasn’t been 5 minutes since the last time he turned around when his stomach starts to churn. A heat wave rolls over him and he feels his heart pounding in every part of his body. His mouth starts to water and his breathing becomes more laboured. He knows what’s about to happen and shuts his eyes tightly. He tries to breathe slowly through his nose, hoping to ease the nausea. 

 

But when he feels his dinner from last night getting ready to make a reappearance, he knows he can’t hold it in. He carefully untangles his sweaty body from the white bedsheets and climbs out of his bunk. As soon as he stands, a spell of dizziness washes over him and he has to grab the bunk across from him to prevent from falling over. When he doesn’t see as blurry anymore, he carefully, but as fast as possible, makes his way over to the small bathroom. He opens the door and he isn’t even fully positioned in front of the toilet when his stomach contents make a loud reappearance in the toilet. He falls to his knees and grabs the toilet seat with both his hands, vomiting loudly. 

 

In between rounds of sick, he coughs and tears start to stream down his cheeks. There is nothing in the whole world he hates more than getting sick. 

 

Harry doesn’t know how long he has been sitting in front of the toilet before he feels a warm hand touching his back. He tries to lift his head from the toilet brim, but he’s too weak. His knuckles have turned white from the tight grip he had on the toilet seat and his breathing is still heavy. The hand starts to rub gentle circles on his back and he hears a voice talking to him, but he can’t process what they’re saying. 

 

His stomach does another flip and he lifts his head up again, ready for another round of sick. He vaguely registers another hand touching his forehead and brushing some curls from it. When he’s done for the moment, he falls back against the wall of the bathroom, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath. He hears the toilet flushing and moments later he feels a wet cloth wiping his mouth and the rest of his face. He tries to open his eyes but he is so tired, he barely manages to hold his head up. He feels sick to his stomach and he’s scared that if he moves too much, he’ll start vomiting again. 

 

The person in front of him touches his cheek and forehead. It’s a cold touch and Harry moans at the welcoming coldness. The person is talking and Harry tries to register what they’re saying. 

 

“Harry,” no reaction. 

 

“H. Do you hear me?” It’s a deep voice. Not as deep as his, but deep enough for Harry to know that it belongs to a man. 

 

“Harry, can you open your eyes for me?” The hands travel to his shoulders, holding him steady against the bathroom wall. 

 

Harry tries to open his eyes and when he does, he sees a blurry figure sitting in front of him. 

 

“It’s me, Mitch. How are you feeling?” Mitch. Mitch? Mitch. He knows who Mitch is. The Octo to his Spongebob. Used to work in a pizza shop. Used to have long hair, but decided to cut if off. Harry still doesn’t know why. He quite liked Mitch with his long hair. The short hair is nice too, but you can’t really do much with it. Harry liked his own buns. And the braids. He liked those too. He misses his long hair. He wonders if Mitch misses his long hair. Not his long hair. Mitch’s long hair. Although he would like to know if Mitch misses his long hair too. Not Mitch’s long hair. Harry’s long hair. He knows Louis liked it. And Liam. And Niall. He isn’t quite sure about Zayn. Maybe he should ask him one day. He should ask Liam for Zayn’s number. 

 

“Harry.” Right. Mitch. Yeah. He knows who Mitch is.  

 

“Harry, how are you feeling?” Mitch asks, his eyes full of concern for his close friend. They’ve only known each other for a bit over a year now, which isn’t considered very long, but when you go on tour together and breathe down each other’s necks for a good 8 months, then it seems like a lifetime. A lifetime filled with guitars, lyrics, songs, tears, laughs, boys, girls, fans, cities, hotels and alcohol. Mitch never forgets the alcohol. Not that he’s an alcoholic, but when you tour with an over-enthusiastic 24 year old, it can be quite exhausting and there’s nothing a glass of wine can’t cure. Perhaps maybe the sick boy in front of him. Mitch is pretty sure that a glass of wine would only make things worse in this situation. 

 

“Shit,” Harry mumbles. Mitch frowns. 

 

“You feel like shit?” Mitch asks. Harry nods weakly and groans. His head is killing him and his stomach is still feeling uneasy. 

 

“I thought so. You’re having a fever. We should give you some medicine,” Mitch touches Harry’s forehead again. It’s clammy from sweat and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes look dazed and Harry’s visibly trembling. 

 

“Can you get up for me?” Harry shakes his head, because no, he can’t get up. He can barely keep his eyes open, let alone lift his arms or feet. 

 

Before Mitch can say anything else though, another voice sounds from the door opening. Harry lets his eyes slip shut, maybe then the pounding in his head would stop. 

 

“Mitch?” Mitch looks behind him and sees Sarah standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face. 

 

“Hey,” Mitch says and smiles softly at his girlfriend. When becoming a part of this band, Mitch had never thought he would meet his future girlfriend. But he’s glad he did. He couldn’t imagine a life without Sarah anymore. 

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sarah asks, nodding towards Harry. Mitch sighs. 

 

“He’s sick. Like, really sick. I found him with his head in the toilet and barely conscious. I’m pretty sure his fever is too high too,” Mitch says. Sarah walks into the tiny bathroom and crouches down next to Mitch. She feels Harry’s forehead for a temperature, but as soon as she touches him, she withdraws her hand with a gasp. 

 

“Mitch. He’s burning up. We need to cool him down,” Sarah says. 

 

“Where do you want to cool him down? We don’t have much room in here.” 

 

“Living room. We have to take him to the living area, so we don’t wake up the others.” 

 

Mitch and Sarah both take an arm of Harry and swing it around their necks, then they slowly stand up, pulling Harry up with them. But as soon as Harry stands he slumps forward and it takes all of their strength to keep him upright. When they’re sure that Harry won’t fall over again, they slowly start their way to the middle of the bus, where the living area is, accompanied by a small kitchen. 

 

They slowly drop Harry on the couch and he instantly curls in on himself, arms wrapping around himself and shivering slightly. 

 

“We need to take his temperature first,” Sarah says, “I saw a thermometer laying in the bathroom cabinet a few days ago, I’ll go get it.”

 

Mitch is glad that Sarah woke up. He has absolutely no idea how to take care of a sick person. He can handle someone with a cold or a slight fever, but Harry doesn’t have any of those. He’s sick. Proper sick. And Mitch doesn’t know what to do. 

 

Mitch has always seen Harry as someone who is on top of the world and can’t get dragged down by anyone, but seeing him on the couch like this - small and vulnerable - is really contradicting those thoughts. It proves that even The Harry Styles™  can lose a battle against his immune system. And in one way or another, how cruel it may even sound, it makes Mitch feel more comfortable around him. Because Harry is Harry Styles, pop idol of many teenagers and young adolescents, role model for thousands of boys and girls and prey for every existing tabloid. He has so many reputations to uphold - the treat-people-with-kindness-one, the I-love-One-Direction-but-have-to-act-like-I-don’t-one and the I’m-not-straight-but-I’m-under-a-contract-one - on top of upholding these different reputations, he has a show almost every other night and he still tries to visit his friends and family whenever he has a few days off. 

So yeah, sometimes Mitch has to remind himself that it’s just Harry who he’s having lunch with and not the pop sensation everyone’s always talking about.

And in moments like these, when Harry has no idea of what is happening around him, Mitch feels connected to him on another level. He feels this sudden urge to protect his younger friend from the outside world (even though he has no clue how to take care of a sick person, but he has Sarah to help him) and make sure that he’s alright and comfortable. 

 

Sarah’s footsteps pull Mitch out of his train of thoughts and he sees her kneeling beside the couch, touching Harry’s shoulder gently. 

 

“Harry,” she whispers, trying to get Harry’s attention, but he’s too far gone. He isn’t aware of his two friends surrounding him, he probably doesn’t even know where he is at the moment. 

 

“Harry, I need to take your temperature. Can you open your mouth for me, please?” Sarah asks softly. Harry doesn’t respond and Mitch hears his girlfriend sighing. 

 

“I’ll have to put it under his armpit,” she says to no one in particular. She lifts Harry’s right arm and slips the thermometer under his armpit before lowering his arm again, making sure the thermometer stays in place. After a few seconds, it starts beeping and as soon as Sarah sees the numbers, she’s on her feet in front of Mitch with wide eyes. 

 

“39.5°C (103.1°F). We have to cool him down or we’ll have to call a doctor and take him to the hospital,” Sarah says. 

 

“Okay. Okay, what do you need me to do?” Mitch asks frantically. He expected Harry to have a temperature, but not  _ such  _ a temperature. 

 

“Get him to sit up. I’ll go find a wet cloth and some medicine,” Sarah says before rushing to the small bathroom. 

 

Mitch crouches down next to Harry’s shaking form. He’s not sleeping, but he isn’t exactly awake either. Mitch touches Harry’s shoulder and whips the wet curls from his sweaty forehead. 

 

“H, I’m going to sit you up, alright?” No answer. Mitch slides his arms under Harry’s back and slowly pushes him into a sitting position, but the movement makes Harry’s stomach drop and his face turns green. Mitch knows what’s going to happen and quickly empties the fruit bowl on the coffee table before thrusting it under Harry’s chin, just in time. 

Mitch makes a side note to never pick a piece of fruit from that bowl ever again. 

When it looks like Harry is done for the time being, he puts the bowl on the table again. Harry slumps forward, his head falling on Mitch’s shoulder. 

 

“Hey hey, c’mon, sit back Harry,” Mitch whispers. He tries to push him against the back of the couch, but he’s too weak to keep his body upright. Mitch quickly climbs on the couch and sits beside Harry, tugging Harry’s form into his side and slouching an arm around his shoulder, keeping him from slipping away. Mitch is about to ask Harry if he’s okay when Sarah walks in with a wet cloth and a bucket. 

 

“Heard him getting sick again,” she explains. She puts the bucket next to the coach and grimaces as she sees the what once was a fruit bowl. 

 

“Sorry, couldn’t find anything quicker.”

 

Sarah shakes her head, “It’s okay.” 

 

She walks closer to Harry and puts the wet cloth on his forehead. She looks at Mitch with a worried look in her eyes. 

 

“Hold this to his forehead, I’m going to try find something to put his feet in water.” 

 

Mitch takes the cloth from Sarah and holds it with his other hand against Harry’s forehead. He’s only been sat next to Harry for less than 5 minutes, but his shirt is already getting damp from Harry’s sweat. 

 

After Sarah returned with a small basin filled with lukewarm water, they take turns in cooling Harry down. The only words muttered being ‘clean water’, ‘towel’, ‘thermometer’ and the occasional ‘sick’ from Harry if he feels like he’ll be sick again.

 

This continues for the next hour when Sarah finally says that his temperature is down to a 38°C (100.4°F), still high, but not dangerously high anymore. 

Sarah goes to clean the bucket and throw the water away, while Mitch changes Harry in some dry sweatpants and shirt. He lays him down on the couch and drapes a blanket over him, hoping he won’t wake up for the remainder of the night, but knowing he probably will. 

 

“We need to get some fluids in him,” Sarah says. She’s sitting on the couch opposite from Harry. Knees tucked against her chest and arms wrapped around them. She looks exhausted. 

 

“What?” Mitch says. Sarah adverts her gaze from her friend and looks over at Mitch. 

 

“We need to get some fluids in him. Some water. Otherwise he’ll dehydrate from all the sweating,” she says softly. Mitch nods. He looks over at the digital clock and sees that’s a bit after 4am. They’ve been up for 2 hours now. 

 

“I’ll take care of that. You can go back to bed,” Mitch says to her. He knows she won’t listen to him, she’s quite stubborn, but he feels like he has to say it anyway. And as expected, she frowns her eyebrows and looks at Mitch. 

 

“I’m not going to leave you alone with him. What if his fever spikes again?” 

 

“It won’t. We gave him some medicine for it. The worst that could happen now is that he gets sick again. I can handle that,” he sees Sarah hesitating and pushes a bit further, “You’ve done so much already, love. Please, try to sleep for a few more hours. If anything happens I’ll come and wake you up,” that seems to do the thing as Sarah slowly nods. 

 

“Alright. But with the smallest change in his temperature I want you to wake me up,” She says sternly. 

 

“I promise,” Mitch swears. Sarah gets up from the couch and walks towards the bunk section, then she suddenly halts in her movements and turns around. She walks over to Mitch and gives him a quick peck on the lips. 

 

“ ‘Night, love,” she whispers before walking off to her bunk. Mitch smiles softly, he’s lucky to have met her. 

 

He goes to the kitchenette and grabs a glass of water and puts a straw in it, thinking it will be easier for Harry to drink from. 

 

He crouches down in front of Harry and touches his shoulder again. 

 

“Harry. Harry, mate, wake up. I need to get some water in you,” Mitch whispers. Harry groans and slowly opens his eyes, they are still glazed over from the fever he has. His skin is pale, almost grey-ish, and his cheeks are flushed. At least he’s coherent enough to understand that Mitch’s sitting in front of him and that he feels like a bus ran over him a couple of times. Everything hurts. His limbs feel heavy, his throat is sore and his head is pounding. He notices that he’s laying on the couch instead of in his bunk, but he has absolutely no recognition of how he got there. His eyes focus on Mitch and he sees that Mitch is holding a glass of water with a green straw in it for him. 

 

He tries to lift his upper body, but it’s no use, he’s too weak. He grumbles some profanities under his breath in frustration and pain when Mitch quickly shushes him. 

 

“Ssh, it’s alright. Here, let me help you,” Mitch lifts Harry’s head a bit and slips the straw between his lips. Harry takes a few small sips before letting his head fall back down again against the cushion. Mitch puts the glass of water on the coffee table and moves to stand up when he hears Harry saying his name softly. He looks questioningly at Harry, waiting for any further indications of questions. 

 

“Wh- what…” Harry scrunches his nose at the soreness in his throat. 

 

“It’s okay. You’re sick. We moved you to the couch,” Mitch says. 

 

‘We’ mouths Harry in confusion. Mitch smiles softly. 

 

“Sarah helped me. You’re okay now, Harry. Go back to sleep. I’m here if you need anything.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as he shut his eyes, he was out like a light. 

  
  


Mitch doesn’t think it’s been more than 10 minutes when he hears small whimpers coming from the couch Harry’s on. He looks over at Harry and sees him moving uncomfortably on the couch. He’s curled in on himself and Mitch can see the thin layer of sweat that gathered on his forehead from where he’s sitting. Scared that Harry’s fever reached its peak again, he rushes over towards him and puts his hand on his forehead and cheeks. He sighs in relief when he doesn’t feel any warmer. Harry wakes up from the cool touch and whimpers slightly. He tries to sit up, but isn’t coherent to do so. Mitch gently moves him into a sitting position when he mumbles the words ‘sick’. 

Mitch reaches for the bucket and holds it in front of Harry while taking a seat next to him. 

 

“Don’t want to,” Harry mumbles, shaking his hand. A few tears roll down his cheeks.  

 

Mitch rubs his back soothingly, “It’s okay. You’ll feel better if you let it all out.” 

 

Harry whimpers a bit more before he lurches over the bucket and gags violently. He doesn’t have anything left in his stomach to throw up and that seems to hurt his throat even more. When it looks like he is done for the moment, Mitch puts the bucket aside and Harry slumps against him. 

 

“You should try to drink a bit more water, Harry,” Mitch whispers. 

 

“No,” Harry’s reply sounds muffled from where he has his face tucked into Mitch’ neck. 

 

Mitch sighs, “H. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. We don’t want you to get dehydrated and have to rush you to the hospital, now do we?” Mitch asks. He doesn’t feel bad for using the guilt card on Harry. He knows it’s the only way to make sure that Harry understands the seriousness of the situation. 

 

“Fine.” 

 

Mitch takes the glass of water from the small coffee table and guides the straw towards Harry’s lips. He wouldn’t be able to hold the glass himself, he’s still too shaky. 

 

After downing a few sips, he falls back into Mitch’ side, closing his eyes and his breath slowly evening out. 

 

Mitch is about to move Harry back to his laying position when he hears footsteps coming from the bunk section. He looks up and sees Sarah walking towards them, wearing one of Mitch’ jumpers (which he’s sure he once borrowed from Harry, it’s not like they keep track of it anyway). 

 

“I was surprised you had even listened to me. Should have known it wouldn’t take long before you would come back,” Mitch says fondly. 

 

Sarah shrugs, “Heard him getting sick again.” 

 

“Yeah, he just fell back asleep.” 

 

“How’s his fever?” 

 

“Same, I think. Haven’t checked since the last time.” 

 

Sarah grabs the thermometer from the kitchen counter and puts it under Harry’s armpit. 

 

“38°C (100.4°F). As long as it doesn’t get higher anymore, we’re good,” she says. 

 

They get Harry to lay down again and Sarah takes Mitch’ spot on the opposite couch, curling in on herself and draping a blanket over her. Mitch takes a seat at the end of Harry’s couch and drops his head on the armrest. 

 

He’s surprised the others haven’t woken up from all the noise they’ve been making. But then again, it had been a busy week and they were all exhausted. It’s a good thing they have the day off tomorrow. He doesn’t think Harry will be better by tomorrow morning, nor will he or Sarah be able to do much. He’s thoroughly exhausted. He closes his eyes and hopes for a few more hours of sleep. 

 

He jinxed it. He knows he did it when he looks at the clock on the wall. 5 am. He had a bit more than 30 minutes of sleep. That’s better than nothing, right? He sighs and gets up to help Sarah with H. At this point, he doesn’t even know why he still bothers trying to sleep. 

  
  


They stay up for the rest of the night. Keeping an eye on Harry’s temperature and waking him up for the occasional sip of water. Around 5:48am, Harry wakes up again because he feels like he will be sick again, but he can’t bring anything up. He falls back asleep after a few minutes of restless turning around and Sarah and Mitch take a breath of relief, sincerely hoping this was the last time Harry will wake up. 

 

And it turns out they were right. It’s around 6:30am when Sarah and Mitch fall asleep, Sarah on the second couch and Mitch on the floor next to Harry’s couch, his head against Harry’s legs. 

 

It’s 3 hours and 30 minutes later when Clare and Adam walk into the living area, all dressed and ready to do some sightseeing. But as soon as they see the scene played out in front of them they halt in their tracks. Sarah is asleep on one couch, Harry on the other, Mitch on the floor, a bucket is at Harry’s side, different kinds of medicine on the coffee table, towels strewn around on the floor and a not-so-appetizing smell. It’s obvious that someone was sick and even more obvious that it was Harry. The sick bucket should say enough, but his flushed cheeks and pale face make it even more obvious. 

 

“What the -” 

 

“Shut up,” Clare whispers. She walks over to Sarah and wakes her up gently. 

 

“Sarah?”

 

Sarah awakes with a jolt and her eyes move immediately to Harry, who’s still asleep on the couch (thank god), before they scan the rest of the room. Mitch is still on the floor and she softly smiles at him, he’s so cute when he’s asleep. Then her eyes settle on Clare. 

 

“Hey,” Sarah whispers, her voice hoarse from sleep (and probably lack of sleep as well). 

 

“What happened?” Clare asks. She takes a seat at Sarah’s feet. 

 

Sarah yawns and rubs her eyes, “H got sick tonight. I woke up to Mitch helping him in the bathroom.” 

 

“Why didn’t you move back to your bunk? This couldn’t have been very comfortable,” Clare questions. Adam had taken a seat at the small table and was scrolling through his phone, listening with a half ear. 

 

“He was really sick, Clare. He had a fever of 39.6°C (103.1°F). He was completely out of it, couldn’t keep anything down. We’ve been up since 2am, trying to take his temperature down and making sure he didn’t dehydrate,” Sarah whispers. 

 

Clare frowns, “You should have woken us up. We could have helped you and Mitch.” 

 

Sarah shakes her head, “Didn’t want to wake you up. We know how tired everyone was. We managed it.” 

 

“How is he now?” Adam asks from the other side of the room, looking concernedly at Harry. 

 

“Better. Last time we checked his fever was at 38°C (100.4°F). Still high, but nothing to worry about too much,” Sarah says. 

 

“You think it’s the stomach flu? Or just a 24 hour bug?” 

 

“I really don’t know,” Sarah sighs. 

 

Their voices must have been a bit too loud, ‘cause soon enough Harry starts groaning and his eyes flutter open. Mitch wakes up from all the movement beside him. He immediately grabs the bucket and holds it out to Harry, but Harry only shakes his head so Mitch puts the bucket back down. He moves so he’s sitting on his knees and touches Harry’s forehead. It feels much cooler than before, he’s pretty sure that his fever is almost fully gone now. The wet towels and medicine have worked then. 

 

“ ‘Morning. How are you feeling?” Mitch asks, still oblivious to the others in the room. 

 

“Head hurts,” Harry croaks out, frowning at the soreness in his throat. 

 

“Stomach feels funny,” he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Mitch acts quickly. 

 

“Okay, let’s sit you up,” He takes Harry under his armpits and slowly pulls him into a sitting position. He takes a seat beside Harry and wraps an arm around his shoulder, taking the bucket with the other one and placing it in Harry’s lap. Harry shakes his head and buries it in Mitch’s shoulder, groaning slightly. 

 

“You need anything?” Adam asks. Mitch’s head shoots up and it’s only now that he realizes they have an audience. He shakes his head, “No, I got it.” 

 

Mitch feels Harry stiffening against him. 

 

“H, it’s alright. The bucket is right here, it’s okay,” Mitch says. 

 

“No,” Harry mumbles through gritted teeth. He tries to swallow the nausea away. He knows he’ll feel better if he lets it all out, but he’s not going to vomit in front of his whole band. They don’t need to see him like this. One person is enough. 

 

“Maybe we should give him some space,” Sarah says. Clare and Adam mumble in agreement. 

 

“We’re going for a bit of sightseeing. You want to join us, Sarah?” Clare asks, although she knows what the answer will be. There’s no way that Sarah will join them. She could fall back asleep any minute. 

 

“No, sorry. I’m going to take a shower and try to get some more rest. You can go without me, have some fun.” 

 

“Okay. Well, we’ll be going then,” Clare says, “Feel better, Harry. If you need us, call us. We won’t go that far.” 

 

“We will. Have fun. Take some nice pictures for us,” Sarah calls after them. Clare and Adam give a quick thumbs-up before they close the door and leave the tour bus. 

 

As soon as Harry hears the door fall shut, he lurches forward and gags a few times, but he can’t bring anything up. He doesn’t have anything in his stomach left to throw up. He sighs and leans back against the couch. 

Mitch puts the bucket back down and pats Harry’s thigh. 

 

“You’ll be okay. I think you’ve caught the stomach flu or something,” Mitch says. 

 

Harry grimaces, “Great.” 

 

Sarah smiles softly and gets up from her position on the couch. 

 

“I’m going to freshen up a bit. Try to eat something, Harry. It will help to settle your stomach.” 

 

When Sarah is out of sight, Mitch turns to Harry. 

 

“Is there anything you need?” 

 

“Cuddle?” Harry asks innocently, sticking his lips out in a pout that shouldn’t be this adorable with a 23 year old. Mitch chuckles. 

 

“ ‘Course. You probably already got me sick anyway,” they lay down together and Harry immediately curls into Mitch’s side. Mitch wraps his arms around Harry and intertwines their legs. They always cuddle like this, Harry as the little spoon and Mitch as the big one. They’ve never questioned it, it just happened one day and nobody asked any questions about it, so why should they? A comfortable silence settles around them and it’s not longer after Sarah turns the shower on that both boys on the couch are fast asleep. 

  
  


The rest of the day consists for the most part of sleepy cuddles. After Sarah took a shower, she went to check up on Harry, but when she saw Mitch and Harry cuddled up together, she couldn’t get it over her heart to wake them up. So she went to her own bunk and slept for a couple of hours. 

 

It had to be somewhere around 4 pm when they woke up, again. 

Harry’s fever was almost gone and he had even tried to eat some soup and toast. Thus far, he hasn’t thrown up yet. They were currently all three cuddled up together on the same couch, watching The Notebook (Harry’s choice, obviously), with Harry in the middle and already fast asleep on Mitch’s lap after the first 10 minutes. 

 

Clare and Adam had come back around 6pm with some take-away and they had all eaten it in front of the small television (except for Harry - who was still asleep), talking about the things they saw and the few fans they met. 

 

It were times like these - sitting together, eating take-away and just talking - that Mitch realised how lucky he was to become a part of this band. A year ago, he was still working in a pizza shop and could he only dream of this. So much has happened in the past year. He went to Jamaica to record an album, he went for the first time to America, he met his girlfriend and now he’s touring across the world, doing what he loves to do. It all seems so surreal. Though he still has to get used to all the attention and screaming girls and boys, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

 

He feels like he finally belongs somewhere. He finally has a place he can call home. Even with a vomiting and sweating Harry in it, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

 

And when Mitch wakes up the next morning feeling like utter shit… he still wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He cuddles up next to Harry on the couch and dreams of singing pizza’s and dancing bananas. 

 

Okay. Maybe he  _ would  _ want to be somewhere else right now. 

 

Just until the dream is over though. 

 

Dancing  _ bananas _ . 

 

He blames that one fully on Harry Styles. 

  
  
**_Fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Let me know what your thoughts are. 
> 
> -S.


End file.
